


Memories

by LelianasSong



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-10 02:16:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6933973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LelianasSong/pseuds/LelianasSong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some of Dr Angela Ziegler’s memories stick out more than others, particularly those of one Amélie Lacroix.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memories

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt at Overwatch fics. Ahh I hope it's alright. It's merely a way for me to test the waters of how my writing is for this fandom because now it's the learning process all over again! Ah, I love it! Anyways, I hope you enjoy~

Memories; those infuriating things that seemed to creep up on you when you least expected or wanted them. There were times when they withered, faces faded, locations blurred into one; gun fire, explosions and death all merging into one terrible portrait that was hard to shake. Those memories were hard to pinpoint, where Dr Angela Ziegler’s hands had worked quickly, bringing Mercy to the populaces that seemed so inevitably hurt by Overwatch’s work. Their cause had always rooted in the just, yet each memory held seemed to weave a tapestry of violence and pain.

That was the nature of war, was it not? That was the nature that had stolen her parents from her and the one she had fought so hard to mitigate. If she could not be around to lessen the blows, then the blows would be greater and such a responsibility could not be ignored. She had a duty to science, to medicine and to the people to ensure that and she had done it well.

But there was one moment, one memory where she felt it tinged with failure and sadness. It had not been her fault when Amélie Lacroix had been taken, how could it have been? She had been in no position to stop Talon and even if she had been, she could have been killed in the attempt. No, Angela had not been there when the woman had been taken and whilst she grieved and she had watched Gérard and other members grieve, she could not blame herself for the woman’s initial kidnapping.

However, she blamed herself for what came once she had seemingly returned to them. She had had such memories of the woman from before. Amélie had been kind, she had been intelligent and she had been good. A force of nature that seemed to command her attention and the friendship of those around her. There had been times when Angela had caught herself staring, her heart skipping a beat whenever the woman had smiled at her or spoke to her. It was difficult not to get swept up in everything, when Amélie could make her feel as if she were the only person who mattered in the room. Her angel wings caught in the woman’s sunlit eyes and her heart felt lighter for it.

When she had returned, those eyes had changed and whilst everything else seemed completely normal, there was no doubt that something had changed about her. Gérard perhaps did not want to know, did not really want to think about the consequences, so long as his wife was once again by his side. It was natural for him to be blinded by this joy and so Angela should have been the objective one, the one who had pointed out the differences and had insisted they kept a closer eye on her, if only for her own safety.

There had been many sleepless nights of worrying, wondering whether Amélie would indeed be okay and whether the hidden secrets behind her smile were all within the doctor’s head. Then, she could remember that moment when Amélie came to see her and even to this day she could not say what her intentions had been. The only memories were that of elation, confusion, surrender, as the woman had fed into every skipped heart beat and gentle touch and escalated it into heated kisses within her lab. It had been late, far too late and tiredness had seeped into her weary bones when Amélie had pressed her hand between her thighs and brought a greater pleasure than Angela had ever known.

She had said that she wanted to feel something, that nothing else was making her feel anything and maybe, just maybe, it had been wrong to let her use Angela to feel those things. But she had, oh how she had spent that night with her lips against the doctor’s ear, whispering about how she had always thought of doing this with her, how sometimes the thought of those gentle and precise hands had been the thoughts she had considered within her marital bed rather than the presence of her husband. He had felt disconnected, as if something had been off for the woman and she did not know why, so Angela had let her feel those emotions she seemingly craved and had given in completely to French adorations dripping from full lips.

Of course the bliss did not last forever and the woman walked out once they were done with a final kiss and a goodbye that felt more final than Angela had understood at the time. That was the last time that Angela would see her, the old Amélie with the bright smile and the laugh that set her soul soaring. For that night, and she remembered it as if it were yesterday, the alerts were raised and the news had arrived; Gérard was dead and Amélie was gone.

There had been so many signs. The sudden intimacy between them that had been everything Angela had dreamt of but had felt as if Amélie were simply trying to feel something, anything. A willing body to play her game, to settle the confusion in her head before she had committed the ultimate betrayal against the man she had once loved. She felt like a fool and she had been played by the woman, something she should have seen. Had she not always maintained that something had been different? That her eyes had burnt dimmer and her smile had hidden lies that Angela could only barely sense in the interviews and counselling? They should have kept a closer watch on her, they should have anticipated that Talon would not have simply let them find her once more.

It had been convenient. Talon’s sudden incompetencies, Mercy’s sudden use as a bed partner, all conveniences that should have blared like warning sirens throughout the doctor’s mind. Perhaps that had been it though. Amélie had needed a distraction, for people to be out of the way before she killed her husband whilst he slept, occupying their minds. She must have known that Mercy’s hands would have been trembling as she looked down at Gérard’s body, guilt and horror mixed within her memories so that perhaps she would be too slow to save his life. Maybe she had counted on Mercy to speak up for her, to insist that she could not have done this and that she was but another victim of kidnap. Maybe none of this was true but really who could say? The past couple of months had been a lie. The woman they thought they had found had been someone else entirely and no matter what shadow of Amélie had remained, that was certainly all gone now.

Ah yes, those memories had a way of staying with her, even when she tried to force them away. When Mercy had seen her next, with blue skin, keen eyes and a laugh that had chilled her to the very bone, she could not think of anything other than the enticing kisses and the warmth that had filled her entire body. She remembered blossoming flowers and sunshine that seemed to have withered in the shadows of this spider’s web.

Her sniper rifle had been raised, her lips curling into the smile of a predator who had just found its prey and Angela had found herself frozen by the memories of what was once and what could have been. She longed to take the woman, to feel her cold skin beneath her hands and add that warmth that had raged between them amongst the cold, white tiles of her lab. Yet this new woman, this Widowmaker, her finger did not pull the trigger, her body did not move an inch. She merely watched, staring at the angel before her and biting her lip.

“It has been awhile, chérie,” Widowmaker had said, her voice sending a shiver down her spine, as devoid of its past warmth as it was.

“It has,” Angela replied, feeling like a fly, trapped in the sights of her murderer.

“You were not quite so afraid of me before,” Widowmaker drawled, her smile morphing into a sneer. “What has changed?”

“Is that a serious question? I… am sorry. This should never have happened to you,” Angela said, stepping forward, wanting to engage despite the fear that surged through her. “I could have saved you.”

“I did not need saving.”

“Did you not?”

“Non, je suis ma vraie personnalité. I am what I am, the woman you wanted to be with died. I am not her and she is not me, we will never be the same.”

Angela held her breath when Widowmaker lowered her weapon, striding forward as the doctor felt her feet frozen in place. She could barely think when cold fingers grasped her chin, tilting her face upwards to look at her. Those eyes, although the same colour, seemed to be hardened, calculating and sizing her up until Angela wished that the woman would simply hurry and end it now. She did not wish to be toyed with and from the smirk on Widowmaker’s face, it seemed that she had no choice in the matter.

It was a surprise when soft lips pressed against hers, stealing the held breath from her lips and filling her chest with ice. Memories sprung to the forefront of her mind and she could barely breathe for hands held her in the same places, they touched with the same pressure and her body burnt in the same way. But the eyes were cold, the touch was cold and the juxtaposition with her memories made her tense. Indignantly, she pushed the woman away, looking at her in shock as she merely got a smirk in reply. Raising her hand, Widowmaker shot a grappling hook from her wrist. There was a moment of stillness, where they seemed to survey each other before Widowmaker laughed, sending Angela’s heart thumping within her chest.

“It has been a pleasure, ma chérie, as always,” Widowmaker said.

In a flash, the woman was pulled up by the strong rope that was attached to the tall building above, leaving Angela behind, dazed and confused by what had just happened. She was alive, but she could scarcely believe what she had just seen. It had been one thing to hear about her from those who had encountered her before, but to see Amélie so changed had shaken her deeply.

Pressing her fingers to her lips, she could still feel them tingle from where Widowmaker has pressed against her. Inside, her mind was screaming and yet her body remembered the heat and passionate intimacy they had shared all that time ago in a time when Angela had thought that she had gotten through to the woman who had felt changed. It had been a lie then and yet her body still remembered it, she still remembered it and some sick part of her wanted to feel that again.

She wanted to save her. How could she not? Angela had been saving people for so long, it was what she did and saving Amélie Lacroix seemed like the right thing to do. But Widowmaker had been right, she was dead. She was gone and nothing would bring her back exactly how she was. That woman was gone and yet, Widowmaker could have pulled the trigger, she could have ousted the former lead scientist of Overwatch and seriously impede their chances of regaining the status they once had in people’s lives. It would have been so easy and yet here she was, still breathing, still thinking, still hoping for miracles that would never be.

She would never be the woman that Angela remembered, but maybe, just maybe there was hope for her yet. Maybe things were not as hopeless as they seemed.


End file.
